


Wedding Gifts

by MiniMoffat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Red Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMoffat/pseuds/MiniMoffat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor never took Arya. The Brotherhood Without Banners arrives to the Red Wedding in time. Gendry doesn’t want to give Arya up to her family, but he reluctantly does so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Gifts

He could see the towers as they reached the top of the hill, heart raising into his throat. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to have to hand her over to her mother and brother.  _This is what’s supposed to happen._  Gendry assured himself, hands gripping tightly on the reins of his horse. They’ll pay for her and she’ll be a proper lady. That’s what he was supposed to want, wasn’t it? He had refused to go with Arya-- it would have been far too painful to see her sitting happily in a castle with her family. They’d never see each other. She’d be married off to some little lord in order to strengthen the ties between the Starks and whatever family they deemed worthy. Gods, it better not be a Frey.

Looking back towards the girl, he noted the smile on her face. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the idea of it. She was going to be with her family. It was what she had wanted since the very beginning! It was everything the Stark had been fighting for.

"Are you ready, m'lady?" He called back to her. She glanced back towards him, scrunching her nose as she looked at him. She was still angry, but it had calmed ever so slightly.

"Do not call me that!" Arya spat back, venom lacing her voice. "I am not a lady!" Gendry couldn't help but laugh at the idea of that, which only seemed to make her angrier. How absurd it was for her to insist that she wasn't when she was about to be handed off to her brother. To a king!

As the horses arrived at the towers, he couldn't help but stare at the giant building. It was so different to King's Landing with the Freys and Starks alike setting up camp. It didn’t smell of death. Sickness wasn’t in the air at every turn. It was relaxing, almost. Arya was practically jumping off of her horse, wanting to run in to see her mother. Lord Beric looked at her and chuckled slightly, insisting she calmed down.

“My lady, there’s no need for that. They’ve assured us Lady and King Stark have not entered yet. They’re situating their camps as all the rest,”

“Then why are we still here?! You said you’d bring me to them!”

“We’ve come to a different arrangement,” Beric insisted, “Lord Frey has taken interest in paying your ransom. He says you’ll make a fine wedding gift. As a token for the Freys and the Starks working together once again,” Arya frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, glancing around to get some view of her family. There was nothing, though. A few faces she recognized, but their names refused to come to her. Gendry swung his leg over the horse, stepping down to move next to her.

“Come on, you’ll see them soon,” Grey eyes glanced back up to him and he could tell she was fighting back words. Her face dropped though, and she nodded ever so slowly. “They’ll be surprised,” He grinned down towards her, placing a hand on her back to pat it awkwardly. He didn’t want her to leave. She had proven to be plenty helpful to the Brotherhood! She should have been able to stay.

 _She’ll be better use to the King of the North._  The bastard hated to admit it, but he knew he had to keep thinking like that. Otherwise, the boy would go insane. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, he began walking into the castle.

When they entered the dining hall where Walder Frey stood, Gendry tried to force away the nerves that threatened to choke him.

“Lord Frey,” Beric began, “Here is the girl,” He stated, ushering Arya to come closer. Reluctantly, the girl took a couple steps forward. She seemed nervous, almost. Playing with her hands in front of her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she thought Walder might not believe it was her. Walder stared at her for a moment, but it took Roose’s words to seem to sway his mind.

“She has the Stark eyes,” He stated simply, glancing towards the girl. It seemed good enough for the Frey, though.

“Heh, she’ll be a good surprise,” The older man held out a bag filled with golden coins. Beric grabbed it and opened to to make sure it wasn’t some trick. Walder looked down towards her, a smile coming to his lips. Arya looked back towards the bastard and he could see how nervous she was. He wanted to reach out and grab her, to insist that they run away from there. But why was he feeling so uneasy all of the sudden? Gendry clenched his teeth tightly, blue eyes moving to the ground so he wouldn’t have to feel the guilt building inside of him.  _This is for the best._  “Bring a few of your men to the feast, if it please you, heh,” Walder said, causing Gendry’s gaze to jolt back up to look at him. He looked slimy and disgusting, but at the moment, he didn’t quite care. He wanted to be able to say goodbye without a ransom. Everything would be better that way.

Beric humbly accepted, not being one to turn down free food. Gendry took a few steps, unable to take her eyes off of the girl as she was being led away from the man. Only then did he connect that Lord Bolton was a Stark bannerman. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, he tried to force those thoughts away.  _The Starks are supposed to remain outside._  So why had Bolton been any different?

When Beric, Thoros, and Gendry arrived at the feast, everything had already began. They were situated near the back and they snuck their way to their seats. Thoros had almost immediately began drinking, but the youngest of the three kept his hands in fists, squeezing so hard that his knuckles were turning white. He looked everywhere for the little girl, wanting more than anything to see her.

It seems that they had gotten there too late for much of anything, though. Walder Frey clapped and insisted the bedding began. The groom looked ecstatic, though the bride had tears running down her face. Gendry furrowed his brow as she was pushed past, heart pounding inside of his head. The doors closed behind them and the music changed, taking note of the tone.

_That I must bow so low?_

“And now for your wedding gift, heh,” Walder said, causing Gendry to stand up on the bench he had been seated on. He wanted to see her face. Something seemed to be off and he wanted to be proven wrong. He had to grab her and get her and her family out of there. He didn’t care if Beric had been paid. What did it matter if Arya was hurt? The old man stood up, a bag in his hands. He reached in and grabbed something, pulling it out.

Gendry’s heart stopped, jaw dropping as he saw his hands pulled through the dirty brown hair. He threw the head onto the floor and watched Cat hurry to her daughter, her scream echoing through the halls.

_Only a cat of a different coat._

Beric and Thoros had both grabbed him before he could run to him with his blade drawn. “No!” He screamed out, feeling hot tears running down his cheeks. “No! You  _promised!_ ” He screamed once more, fighting his way from the gasp of the two men. Gendry ran on top of the table, jumping off so he could run past the Freys. The crossbows pointed at the group of people and he moved towards Cat, cradling her daughter’s head in her hands.

_That’s all the truth I know._

Clenching his teeth tightly, he stood up and grabbed at his sword, pointing it towards the old lord. The man merely chuckled and a couple crossbows pointed towards him. He heard the strings release before he felt the pain. In fact, it took him far longer to feel it than he normally would have. Gendry tried to raise his sword to the other, but found the strength gone. The crossbows then pointed towards the King of the North, shooting into him. There was howling coming from outside. Screams echoing through the windows to show that the bloodbath was not just inside.

_A coat of gold, a coat of red._

Lady Stark grabbed one of the sons and began pleading, causing Gendry to move to grab the young girl’s head. He pet her cheeks, watching the blood on his hands wipe onto her pale skin.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” He whimpered, bringing her forehead to his. She was supposed to be a lady, happy with her mother and brother. She was supposed to marry some lordling. Clenching his teeth tightly, he brought her head to his chest, hugging it tightly.

_A lion still has claws._

Cat begged for her son, but the man in the seat seemed to not care. “But that is a grandson,” You could hear her scream once more, but Gendry didn’t flinch. He couldn’t feel much of anything anymore.

_And mine are long and sharp, my lord._

The people grabbed at Catelyn and Gendry set the head down, trying to pull them off of her. He needed to help someone! He needed to! He was weaker from the arrows inside of him, but he tried not to care. He was pushed aside and blood splattered from the woman’s neck. He was too late. Gendry was always too late.

_As long and sharp as yours._

“No!” He screamed out, clenching his fists tightly. He fought to get up again, grabbing the short blade Catelyn Stark had had against the grandson’s neck. It was covered in his blood, but he didn’t care. He stumbled towards the Frey, but was stopped with a hard blow to the stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was-- the hilt of a sword or simply a fist, perhaps.

“Oh no you don’t,” A man chimed, pushing him to the ground. The man grabbed the blade from Gendry’s hand, bringing it above his head to stab him in the chest. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he glanced back to where he had left the girl’s head.

“Looks like we’ve got a loverboy on our hands,” Another Frey man chimed in, tossing Arya’s head towards their direction. The blade raised once more, the blade digging into his chest. He could hardly hear their laughter as he reached for her head. Gendry’s fingertips brushed against her cold skin ever so slightly, but he couldn’t grab her. He could never quite reach her. His eyesight was getting dizzy and he could taste blood threatening to choke him.

“M’lady...” The Baratheon whimpered. The blade found it’s way back into his chest. He could only smell the blood around him. The screams faded out and his vision darkened. Even the skin of the young Stark was vanishing from him. Just the smell of death and destruction.

_Askin’ me questions is bad luck. You’ll probably be dead soon._


End file.
